


Rewritten

by fanficloverme96



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: I wrote this like so long ago lol, M/M, Self-Reflection, hints of angst here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficloverme96/pseuds/fanficloverme96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves the fact that Kamui makes him feel real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewritten

They say that one cannot fight fate. For fate means that it is inevitable and already set in stone. Fate simply waits for time; with each passing second, no matter how fast or how slow, it stands in the corner without a word. And when the time finally arrives, fate takes action with no hesitation. Like an excited child finally being let out to play.

  
But what if, just what if, someone knows this and still chooses to oppose the predestined fate? This person will do whatever it takes to change the course of the path he or she is meant to take. Any price, no matter how heavy, will be paid. No matter what sacrifices he or she must take, this person will still be determined to change fate. Change something that is already set in stone.

  
There are also others who run away from fate. Knowing that fate cannot be changed, this person chooses to run away from it. It will be a constant game of hide and seek, and the winner is undetermined. This person will pray so fate is delayed, giving enough time to flee once more. He or she knows that eventually, fate will catch up and the game will end. So before that happens, this person will continue to flee.

  
Thus, begins a story of a hunter who opposes his fate and the hunted who runs away from it.

* * *

  
*  
Fuuma never knows what it is like to miss someone.

  
For the past several years, he had been travelling on his own and after time, he begins to appreciate the solitude. He does what needs to be done and any companions made along the way are quickly forgotten a few worlds later. It is not that he does not care for the people who have offered him help when he needs it. It is not that.  
It is just that he does not know how to care.

  
He understands the implications of his job from the moment he accepted it. He knows that hanging on to something could prove to be troublesome after some time. Besides, he is too jaded to understand the feeling of missing someone. To view someone as precious and wanting to see them so much that it hurts. He could never understand such feelings and he does not give himself time to understand them.

  
Fuuma has seen the way missing someone could have an effect on people. Take his older brother, for example. By nature, Seishirou had always been the type who never holds any sort of genuine interest in anything. He sees almost everything as something that could easily be discarded. Easily replaced. His view of the world is dull and grey. Such way of thinking eventually influenced Fuuma.

  
Seishioru’s smile, like Fuuma’s, is hardly genuine. It twists his face almost unnaturally and never quite reaches his eyes. But the air he gives out is calm and approachable. This makes it easier for him to fool people into believing that his smile is kind, gentle and real.  
Well, the mask is real. The meaning behind it is not.

  
Fuuma’s brother is indifferent, so much that it is cruel. His general indifference towards everything including Fuuma himself has left Fuuma twisted in so many ways that he does not even realize it himself. The cracks on him are so numerous that he wonders why he has not shattered yet.

  
Fuuma is not broken, per se. Just irreversibly damaged. The masks and shields and multiple personalities he creates are merely results of that. His smile no longer has any sort of meaning and his eyes are constantly on guard; wary, on edge, never trusting. With each passing second, he becomes a mirror image of his brother; the last person he wants to be.

  
But he tries his best to appear kind. Because if he cannot be truly kind, at the very least he should pretend to be.

  
So when Seishirou, his indifferent and cold older brother whose smile is never real and whose personality is never truly kind, begins to chase someone who goes by the name of Subaru (and Kamui too, but he is merely part of the package; chase one, the other follows) with so much passion that Fuuma never sees in Seishirou’s eyes, he is not sure of what to think anymore.

  
He is sure he would end up like his older brother eventually, inheriting his twisted view of the world and his twisted personality. He is sure that it his fate.

  
But Seishirou seems to be defying his. Pursuing something with so much determination that he is willing to pay any price is not of the norm for him. Not something he is designed to do. Fate has set a path for him, a path to become like their mother (beautiful, cold, dangerous, _sinister_ ), but Seishirou ignores it and chooses his own path. To defy fate straightforwardly. Fuuma is not sure whether to be amazed or scared.

  
However, if his brother could do it, there is no reason for Fuuma not being able to.

  
Maybe, he, too, could oppose his fate.

* * *

  
*  
When Fuuma meets Kamui, though, a thought passes through his head.

  
_Ah, this must be fate._

  
Such thought makes him laugh; a real genuine laugh that escapes his throat before he could stop it. Fuuma has been opposing his fate for years, trying his best to become a real person for once but not really succeeding because the cracks on him are a constant reminder that no, he is not a real person. Not someone so damaged.

  
Kamui narrows his eyes; burning gold and absolutely beautiful. He swipes his claws at him and Fuuma dodges, still laughing.

  
“Why are you _laughing_?” Kamui growls.

“I haven’t had this much fun in years,” Fuuma answers because it is true.

  
Their fights are always something he looks forward to. He loves the rush of adrenaline and the reaction he gets from Kamui. He loves the action and the feeling of raw pain that runs through him when he is hurt. He loves the wind harshly blowing against his face when he is sent flying by a powerful kick. He loves the feeling of his breath being knocked out of him.

  
He loves the fact that Kamui makes him feel _real_.

  
Kamui glares and Fuuma dodges a kick, grabbing Kamui’s wrist in the process before pulling him close. Kamui struggles like he usually does and Fuuma simply holds him in place. He feels the warmth of Kamui’s body against him. Fuuma buries his nose in Kamui’s hair and inhales.

  
He feels like drowning and he does not even care.

  
“What are you doing?” Kamui demands, stiffening when Fuuma lays his head on Kamui’s shoulder.

  
“Nothing in particular.” Fuuma’s voice is soft and there is a note of laughter in it. But just as he feels like laughing, he also feels like crying.

  
Which is funny, because Fuuma honestly cannot remember the last time he cried.

  
“Hm, Kamui?”

  
“What?” The place is empty aside from the two of them. The silence of the night seems to make their voices resonate.

  
There is a slight pause. “Do you think I’m real?”

  
“What kind of question is that?” Angry, always angry.

  
“Kamui is real. I can feel you. I can see you. I can hear you,” adds Fuuma, not a bit nonplused by Kamui’s reaction, “You’re running away, though. It makes it hard for me to grab a hold of you. But I guess it’s unavoidable. You are running away from your fate, after all. Unlike me.”

  
Kamui lets out an angry huff. “What gibberish are you sprouting out, this time, hunter?”

  
Fuuma smiles and he wonders if he means it. “Hunter, huh? Has a nice ring to it. The hunter who opposes his fate and the hunted who runs away from it.”

  
“I am not your hunted!” Kamui hisses low and livid.

  
A chuckle. “True,” Fuuma agrees, “Something unreal cannot chase something that is real.”

  
“Again, what are you talking about?” the vampire against him demands.

  
“Nothing.”

  
Fuuma nuzzles Kamui’s cheek and exhales, letting his breath wash over the vampire’s face. His hold on Kamui’s wrist never slackens. “But you know, you make me feel like I’m real,” he whispers like he is conveying a secret. Perhaps he is. A secret that he keeps with him throughout these years.

  
Kamui stays quiet, no longer having the patience to deal with the man’s strange words. They stay like that for a few minutes and the silence is beginning to grow too loud for both of their ears. Kamui considers catching the man off guard but even in his anger, he is known to stay rational. And despite what Fuuma says, he is fair. To a certain extent.

  
“Why are you opposing your fate?” Kamui finally asks, carefully, warily, his voice ringing in the quietness of the place, “What is it about your fate that is so bad that you want to change it?”

  
“Hmm…” Fuuma hums against Kamui’s shoulder. “Why do you run away from yours?”

  
“You cannot answer a question with another one,” Kamui huffs angrily, twisting against Fuuma’s hold once more. Fuuma’s grip never slackens.

  
There is a low chuckle. “Well,” Fuuma says, “You never answered mine.”

  
A long, drawn pause.

  
A snarl. A loud exhale of breath.

  
“Yes.”

  
“Hm?”

  
“You are real,” Kamui replies, “You are real,” he repeats, a little louder this time, “Your smile may be fake and you are so goddamned annoying and honestly, I don’t even know what you are sometimes but yes.” Kamui looks at Fuuma with so much ferocity that the hunter has a hard time looking away. “You are real. You just don’t show the world that you are.”

  
Fuuma is hardly speechless. But now, he is pretty sure he is. His eyes widen and his grip on Kamui loosened until the vampire is able to free himself from his hold. Kamui takes a few steps away from the hunter and looks at him warily. His stance is defensive and his eyes are narrowed.

  
It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. Hours, even. But eventually, Fuuma’s expression turns from surprise to a strange, incomprehensible one. His lips curve into a smile that is not his usual one. It is not sardonic nor playful. It is happy.

  
Yet, it is sad.

  
Like his eyes.

  
“Thank you, Kamui,” Fuuma answers and Kamui is greatly unsettled by the way the hunter says his name. He says it with a sort of longing in his tone and the gratefulness in it also rings clear. It sounds like he is saying his name like he is drowning and holding on to a lifeline.

  
Kamui hates it.

  
“And to answer your question,” Fuuma continues a moment later. “I am opposing my fate because I dislike it. Simple as that.” His stupid, carefree grin is back.

  
Kamui is about to snap out a response when the hunter abruptly takes a few sudden steps towards him. The vampire has barely any time to blink when he feels an arm wrapping itself around his waist and pulling him close. He growls but his response is lost when he feels something warm pressing against his lips.

  
Fuuma is kissing him.

  
The kiss is chaste and brief; a mere contact of lips and nothing more, and when Fuuma pulls away, Kamui thinks he sees another kind of smile he has never seen on the hunter’s face.

  
A genuine, happy smile. It is not as wide as his other smiles, but it is softer and realer.  
“But meeting is you one thing I like about my fate,” the hunter whispers.

  
The only response he gets is a swift kick in the gut and angry hiss. Even when he blacks out due to the cold finally catching up to him, a thought passes through his head.

  
_Ah, I could actually die happy._

* * *

  
*  
He wakes up to Kamui’s claws an inch away from his face and the only thing he does is laugh.

* * *

  
*  
“Brother, I often wonder.”

  
“Hm.”

  
“Are you opposing your fate?”

  
“Are you running away from yours?”

  
There is a happy chuckle.

  
“On the contrary, I’m quite enjoying mine.”

  
That is the first truth Fuuma has ever said for the first time in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I have written this in 2013, back in my senior year in high school and I realized I never posted it.
> 
> Thought I'd visit old fandom memories.


End file.
